Broken by Magic: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Dragon Gate Book 3), page 39
“Thank you.” There was a chair next to a table laden with food and a pitcher of juice and a bottle of wine, so she wrapped the blanket around herself and sat in it. The hard unyielding wood appeared more comfortable than the mattress. “I’m sorry you were injured today.”
She waved at the bandages on his side, some of them near where scars remained from his encounter with the dragon. Another bandage covered his shoulder and yet another wrapped around his thigh, easily visible since that leather undergarment didn’t cover much of his leg. She tried to give him a sympathetic smile, though she looked away from the lower bandage before her gaze could inappropriately linger again.
“Do you think we’re monitored?” she asked quietly.
She didn’t see any blatantly magical devices mounted on the walls, but that didn’t mean the guards couldn’t keep track of what was going on in the cells. Though she wanted to let him know that Rivlen was planning an escape for them all, she didn’t want to risk being overheard.
“I’m not certain,” he said.
With the blanket covering most of her nudity, Malek seemed less discombobulated. He sat on the mattress and faced her, his gaze intent as he met her eyes. “Did Jak get in trouble today?”
“No. Why would you think he would?”
“I may not have access to my magic, but I could tell someone was healing my wounds—I think there was some poison in that cat’s claws. It seemed to be slowing my reflexes, but then the effect disappeared. At first, I thought it was Rivlen, but she has admitted she hasn’t trained in the healing arts. I was teaching Jak how to heal wounds the day before yesterday. We didn’t speak about poison or venom—or being able to heal someone from afar—but he’s proven gifted.”
“Yes,” Jadora murmured.
“I assumed someone might notice and punish him. Though I can’t understand anyone, I gathered that part of the lecture we received before going out to fight was that outsiders—spectators in the stands—were forbidden from assisting us in any way.”
“Ah. A squad of guards did come into our suite right before the fight and stand behind us as we watched you. Now that you mention it, one did do something magical to Jak at one point and order him to stop. I hadn’t realized what he was doing. He might have been punished more, but the hatchling roared at the guard and bit him on the finger.”
“He roared?”
“It was a squeaky roar, but the bite must have been effective. It convinced the guard not to harm Jak.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed the ferocity of a parrot-sized hatchling could convince a powerful mage of much.”
“He’s turkey-sized now, and it was a very earnest roar.”
“It must have been.” Malek smiled slightly.
Jadora returned the smile, relieved he could make such a gesture now. He’d had his magic taken from him—possibly permanently—and he was the only one of four people who hadn’t died in his battle today. She’d worried he would be morose and difficult to speak with.
“Whatever the reason,” she said, “they didn’t hurt him. Thank you for asking.”
“Of course.”
It touched her that he genuinely seemed to care for Jak. In the beginning, she had assumed he was only protecting them because Uthari wished it, and that he was teaching Jak for a similar reason. And that was likely true. But it had grown easier to believe that maybe Malek had developed feelings for them and cared for them as people. She was biased when it came to Jak, but she believed he was a good boy and an earnest student. Surely, any teacher would appreciate that about him.
And Malek never seemed to mind when Jak said something irreverent. If he did, it never showed. Perhaps it was strange, since he was zidarr and the epitome of what all those mages stood for, but he wasn’t like all the others who got uptight whenever a terrene human presumed to say something that could even slightly be perceived as disrespectful.
“I shouldn’t admit it,” Malek said, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, “but I miss being able to read your mind.”
She had no doubt he missed all of his magic. Badly.
“I was thinking about how you and Jak seem to be getting along well as teacher and student and that you seem to care about him.”
“Yes. And I believe you, but it’s strange to have to take your word for it.” He offered that slight smile again. “You might be surprised at how often people don’t say what they think.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Malek turned his palm upward. “I did ask for you for a reason. Would you mind filling me in on what’s happened this past day? Were you able to get to the library?”
“Yes. Let me sum everything up for you.” Jadora spotted upturned cups stacked on the table and grabbed two. “Do you want some water? Er.” She peered at the bottle and pitcher and searched for other beverage offerings. “Is there water?”
“They took it earlier when they brought fresh food. Apparently, victorious gladiators are supposed to prefer wine to water.”
“Wine might not be the best choice.” She glanced at his bare chest, blushed, and looked away. Definitely flustered. “Since it lowers inhibitions.”
He glanced at her chest, making her realize the blanket had slipped to reveal more skin than she’d intended, and he was also quick to look away. “Agreed.”
For some reason, his acknowledgment that he might do unwise things with her if his inhibitions were lowered made her body flush. She envisioned being entangled in a lover’s embrace with him when Rivlen and the others—Rivlen, Jak, and the others—showed up to rescue them.
No, she could not let that happen. Besides, she couldn’t forget Uthari’s warning to her, that if she attempted to engage in a romantic relationship with Malek, he might get rid of her. Might kill her. The bastard.
“Juice then.” Jadora picked up the pitcher and sniffed it. It smelled like the tart blue juice that Jak had been enjoying all week. That ought to be safe.
She poured two cups, clasped the blanket around her collarbone, and started to stand to bring one to him. But Malek held up a hand and retrieved it himself.
“Your blanket shifts a little too interestingly when you move.” He sat back down.
Jadora resisted the urge to ask him to define interestingly, especially since there was more wariness than amusement in his eyes. Maybe he was also thinking of Uthari’s threats and what Uthari would do if he found out anything had happened between them.
She sipped from the mug, then launched into the details of her trip to the library and what she’d found in the book, making sure to warn him that everything was hypothetical for now. She also made it clear that she might be able to make the formula back home in a lab but that she wasn’t positive about it. In a very soft voice, she mentioned Rivlen’s plans to escape that very night, if she could manage it. She didn’t dwell on specifics such as the candle, lest someone nearby was reading their minds.
Before she’d finished, Malek was pushing a hand through his hair and gazing wistfully at the wall in the direction of the mountains where they believed Jak’s ziggurat lay. “Rivlen is right that we should prioritize escaping and reporting back to Uthari, but if we could return with a large amount of dragon steel and the knowledge of how to work it… that could be the difference between being able to defend our world effectively from invaders—human and otherwise—and not.”
“True, but there’s still the option to pull down our portal again and move it to another part of the world where it won’t work. If you truly believe an invasion is a possibility.” Jadora tried to remember if anyone had actually delivered that threat, or if Malek was only guessing. Her thoughts had grown fuzzy, and she found herself uncharacteristically searching for words.
“Yes, but even if Uthari agrees to that, I think we would find it difficult to talk the other nations into it. The truce that they’d grudgingly agreed to when we left was tenuous at best, and they all believed that if they cooperated, they would get a chance to explore the other worlds and seek out resources for their kingdoms.”
“It might have been better if we’d brought nothing but wounds back from our first mission. The dragon-steel axe and dragon egg have everyone convinced that great treasures are out here.”
“Aren’t they?” He lifted a hand toward the ceiling.
To indicate the arena? Or all the dragon-steel weapons they’d seen here?
Jadora nodded, but for some reason, it had grown harder to follow Malek’s words. She found herself noticing the way his biceps flexed when he pushed his hand through his hair. The simple movement affected his chest muscles too, pectorals shifting, shadows stirring in the valley between their swells…
As he took a long drink from his cup, a couple of droplets of the blue juice splashed to his chest. They ran down the curve of his muscle, and the urge to kneel before him and lick them off came to her.
Malek looked at her, and she blushed and looked down at her cup, embarrassed by her thoughts. How long had she been staring? Like some libidinous youth moved by her hormones instead of her intellect? This wasn’t like her at all.
She took a drink, willing the tart juice to wash away thoughts of swells.
Still watching her, Malek rubbed the droplets off his chest. The movement only prompted his muscles to move again in intriguing ways.
Jadora huffed out a breath and looked at the ceiling. What had they been talking about before she’d been distracted? The library book and the formula, right. “I barely got it copied. Guards came and took the book back, so these people must know what I’ve been researching. I’m surprised they’ve allowed me any latitude to explore at all. Though that may be over now. Zethron hasn’t even been allowed to come by.”
“Good,” Malek said, his tone jarringly cold. “I don’t want him around, lusting after you.”
“Pardon?” She met his gaze, surprised. Oh, she’d gotten the sense that Malek didn’t trust Zethron, or like that he was giving Jadora his attention, but he hadn’t outright admitted to that.
“He’s trouble, and I’m your protector.” His gaze drifted to her chest again.
Earlier, he’d jerked it away whenever he’d caught his gaze wandering, but he didn’t this time. It lingered. Appraising. Interested.
Heat flushed her body. She should have pulled the blanket tighter, but instead she let it slip.
They’d been given this time together, this privacy. Would it be so bad if they made the best of it? They could enjoy the feast, enjoy each other, drink more of the quenching juice…
A flash of insight came to her, and she jerked her head around to look at the pitcher.
“Malek,” she whispered, realizing he’d stood, his eyes hooded as he walked slowly toward her. Prowled toward her, like the powerful predator he was. “The juice.”
He froze.
“What?” he asked, his voice raspy. With lust?
Jadora rubbed her face, a part of her wanting to say nothing and see what happened. But…
“I think it’s drugged,” she said.
Malek tore his gaze from her and focused on the pitcher. “Hell.”
21
Jak struggled to create a ball of flames over his open palm. Rivlen stood in front of him, her own palm open, and a compact fiery sphere rotating slowly in the air above it. It was no illusion. The heat was real, tangible enough that it warmed Jak’s cheeks.
She’d demonstrated how to make fire numerous times now, but he hadn’t been able to conjure so much as a single tiny flame. Not even a spark.
Sweat trickled down his spine and dampened his hair, a testament to how hard he was trying, but this eluded him, and he was growing frustrated. Worse, he could sense Rivlen becoming impatient.
He wanted to learn this—fireballs aside, it would be incredibly useful to be able to conjure flame on a whim—but he couldn’t find a cartographical feature that matched up with fire. His attempt to imagine swaths of forestlands that had burned after a lightning strike started a fire hadn’t worked. Instead, what he kept seeing was the battle back in Port Toh-drom where Rivlen had hurled walls of fire at an enemy ship before ramming it into a tower where it had burned until it crashed, charred people tumbling out of the wreckage. Malek and other mages had also thrown fireballs in that battle, the flames engulfing people and roasting them alive.
Jak lowered his hand. “Can we try something else?”
“Why are you struggling with this? You’ve been a quick study with everything else.”
“I don’t know,” he said, though he had a good idea. Fire was deadly, and he didn’t want to kill people. Even enemies.
“Let’s try the squeeze attacks.”
“Is that what you call it when mages wrap invisible fingers around my throat and cut off my air?”
“Yes.”
Great. Another way to kill people. Jak wondered if he could yawn and pretend he was tired and needed to rest before they tried their escape attempt.
Learning attacks had been as much his idea as Rivlen’s, and he couldn’t deny that it would be useful, but the thought of twitching a finger and using magic to kill someone seemed worse than pulling a trigger on a magelock. Not that he wanted to do that either. Before Malek had kidnapped him and started him on this crazy journey, he’d never killed anyone, and he didn’t like it that he had now. Even if it had been in self-defense.
“I’m getting your thoughts,” Rivlen said.
“Sorry. I’m distracted.”
“You don’t have to kill people.”
“That seems inevitable if you throw a fireball at them. I haven’t seen many of your opponents walk away only lightly scorched.”
“Are you seriously going to be a pacifist? Uthari isn’t going to have any use for you if you won’t attack people.”
“Darn.”
Rivlen clenched her jaw. Judging by the frustration and irritation in her eyes, this wouldn’t be the best time for Jak to proclaim that he didn’t want to work for Uthari.
“I’m sorry.” Jak lifted his hands. “I’m not willfully trying not to learn this. I’m just finding it difficult tonight. If we don’t have much time, we should practice something I already know.”
Rivlen took a deep breath and visibly quelled her frustration. Even though he would prefer not to annoy her, he appreciated that she was trying to calm herself instead of snapping at him.
“Maybe that thing where I funnel magic into people,” Jak offered. “Like with your engineer. Or with Malek and the dragon.”
“What happened with Lord Malek and the dragon? I wasn’t there for that.”
“I wasn’t able to do anything to stop the dragon—our magelocks and explosives didn’t bother it at all—but in the end, I funneled some of my power into him to help him with a final thrust into the roof of its mouth.” Jak pantomimed jabbing a dagger home. “I’m sure someone like you or Malek wouldn’t normally need any help, but since everyone is so powerful here…”
“Yes, that could be helpful. Even powerful mages get tired during an extended battle—that’s when such a tactic can be helpful—and you’re right. I haven’t been able to defeat these people even one on one.” New frustration flashed in her eyes, making Jak wonder what had happened at that greenhouse. “You funnel power into me when we face them, and I’ll make the fireballs.”
Jak hesitated. If he assisted her in burning enemies with fire, that wasn’t any different from doing it himself, but he reluctantly admitted that if they were going to escape this world alive, he couldn’t be squeamish. If they ended up battling dragons, he definitely couldn’t be squeamish.
Voices came from the corridor, and Rivlen fell silent. Jak used his senses to try to tell if anyone new had arrived. He couldn’t tell. The same four guards that had been there all night were still there.
After more discussion, someone yawned loudly. Two of the guards walked away.
This could be our opportunity, Rivlen told Jak telepathically. Get that candle out, and stuff your hatchling in your sling. I’ll tell the mercenaries.
I guess we won’t be practicing my ability to funnel magic.
You already know how to do that. You’ll be fine.
Let me know whenever you think it will help. And if you want a steady stream or a quick burst. Jak remembered his first attempt to share his power with that engineer. He’d unleashed it too quickly and hurt the man. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Maybe she caught that thought, for she smirked and patted his cheek. I can handle anything you can give me.
I’m glad. Jak gripped her wrist and pushed her hand away. For the most part, he didn’t mind her company, and he did appreciate the magic lessons, but it grated when she grew condescending or treated him like a boy. Jokes about chest hair notwithstanding, he was a man, damn it.
He only succeeded in pushing her hand away a couple of inches. She smiled, amplifying her strength with her power.
Use magic if you want to push me back, she said. The mind is greater than muscle.
Another lesson?
You did ask for them.
He narrowed his eyes and stared challengingly into hers as he drew upon his mountain imagery to wall himself off and try to push her back. In the past, he’d succeeded in forcing her back a step, but she was prepared this time and resisted his efforts, standing as implacable as a mountain herself. His mountains pushed against her, but he felt as if he were pressing his hand against a brick wall and expecting it to move.
Maybe he needed to distract her or try something unexpected. That was how Sorath, using his explosives, sometimes got the best of mages.
The ludicrous thought of leaning in to kiss her came to mind. But if he did that, she would probably pull out her sword and eviscerate him. After what he’d seen of her memories of Tonovan forcing her against a wall, he didn’t want to do anything that would remind her even remotely of that.
Since he’d wanted to practice funneling his magic, he decided to try that. Making her more powerful might not be logical as a tactic, but he guessed it would startle her, and that might be all he needed to break her grip.
